


Zozzled

by conceptofzero



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-16
Updated: 2011-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-24 16:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conceptofzero/pseuds/conceptofzero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowbar probably shouldn't find her nearly as attractive as he does. They're not even the same species when you get right down to it. She's got some sort of shell where her skin should be, not to mention she always looks like she's been dipped in molasses. His mother would be throwing a fit if she knew he was lusting after a woman that was genetically closer to a lobster than to him. But as far as his mother knows, Crowbar's dead, so what's one more disappointment right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zozzled

Crowbar probably shouldn't find her nearly as attractive as he does. They're not even the same species when you get right down to it. She's got some sort of shell where her skin should be, not to mention she always looks like she's been dipped in molasses. His mother would be throwing a fit if she knew he was lusting after a woman that was genetically closer to a lobster than to him. But as far as his mother knows, Crowbar's dead, so what's one more disappointment right?

Dating inside the Felt is a bad move all around. He knows this. Crowbar walked away from the last gang he was in because they couldn't keep their eyes on the fucking prize instead of on each other. He's a professional, and he was hired by Lord English to keep being a professional. That's what he intends to do. This doesn't mean no girls, but it means no chasing the one dame in the entire organization.

Those are just two reasons. There's a third, and it's uglier than the other two by far. Even if species wasn't that big of a deal, even if he was able to convince himself it wasn't unprofessional to make a pass at Snowman, then he'd still have to deal with the third reason: Spades Slick.

Crowbar doesn't know if they used to fuck around or what. She's notoriously tight-lipped about whatever she did before she joined up with Lord English. He knows better than to push. Hell, he's got stories too, stuff he ain't too proud of doing on his way up the ranks. But whatever it was, it got Slick all fired up and everywhere they turn, there he is. And as much as Slick hates her (and he does hate her, like a man possessed), the one thing he hates more is any gent with the misfortune to look at her twice when Slick's around. If the rumours are true, then the little prick whacked her last squeeze, this big rook fella working for a bunch of bootleggers.

He's got a lot of things, but Crowbar doesn't have a death wish. So there's three perfectly good reasons why he shouldn't be looking twice at Snowman. He thinks about them every time she walks into the room, and every time he lights her cigarette or brings her a drink. Friends is okay, friends is just fine and peachy, but beyond that? There's three very good reasons why he can't go beyond friends, even if he can't stop wondering what's under the coat and the skirts.

It's late at night, and they're all primed on cheap hooch they took off the Pip Counts. Eggs and Biscuits are up to their usual bullshit, and the only reason Itchy isn't forcing them into another game of musical hats is that he tripped over a chair while swapping the first hat and still hasn't managed to get his legs under him again. And Crowbar's been going over his three reasons all night long. Doesn't help that she's wearing this tiny flapper dress that makes her legs look like they just go on forever. Really doesn't help when she puts her feet up in his lap and asks him to give them a rub. He does, ignoring the way Die keeps making whipped noises.

He finishes up with her feet, and she just stretches them out, that shell of hers somehow still so mobile and durable at the same time, and the mantra whirls through his head again. Crowbar's got to stop this, so he gives her feet a bit of a shove, "I've got to see a man about a horse."  
Matchsticks is falling asleep, so Crowbar gives him a bump, just so there's somebody sensible around to keep an eye on the idiot brigade. Then he heads up the stairs to the washroom, mostly to splash some water on his face and sober himself up. It's less than successful, since he's piss drunk, but it feels good.

He turns off the taps and looks up, and damn near dies of fright when he sees Snowman lurking behind him. Crowbar turns around to stare at her. He knows he locked the door, he knows that she just slipped herself in here using those powers of her. "Damnit Snowman, I'm in the john."

She smiled a little, smoke curling off of her cigarette. "I know. I took my chances."

He's drunk enough that he has to think the mantra twice before he can make himself speak. She's drunk too. Snowman never smiles like that unless she's deep in her cups. "Try knocking next time."

Snowman leans over, knocks on the door, and keeps that smile on her face. "Crowbar, can I come in?"

"Yeah, fine. I'm on my way out." He wipes away at the sheen of water on his face, and goes for the door. But her hand stops him. "Snowy-"

"Give me a moment." She reaches behind him, stubbing her cigarette out in the sink and setting the rest up on the little decorative hand soap holder that nobody in the whole house uses. And then, easy as pie, she backs him up against the counter and kisses him.

Crowbar's hands go straight to her waist and he knows he's going to have to end this, so he takes his two seconds to feel her, to feel all that warm strange skin and the thin silk over top. God she's hot, throwing off body heat like a little oven, and it takes everything to get those hands up to her shoulders and to get her back. "Hey, hey, no. No, you're drunk-"

"You're drunk too." She reminds him, as if he's forgotten, and she presses in close again and rubs with this wicked little look on her face, "But not too drunk."

This has already gone too far. He can barely remember the mantra with Snowman pressing up against him and it has been way too long since Crowbar had a partner that wasn't his own hand. His hands push on her shoulders and he reluctantly gets her back, "Look, we got reasons not to do this."

"No, you have reasons." She leans her weight on his hands, just enough that he has to concentrate to keep her pushed away, "What are they? Now I'm curious."

Crowbar damn near sighs because he already knows they're going to sound stupid out loud. "We're not even the same species."

"We're compatible, if you're worried about that." She says dismissively, and when Crowbar can't stop the look of shock on his face, she just laughs it off, "I live with fourteen men, you think I haven't snuck a peek or two? You've got fewer ridges, but I've got a feeling that might be fun."

And lord forgive him, but he's just a man, and when she says that, his hands go slack and she's against him again, those wicked black hands of her getting those suspenders off his shoulders and going for his bow tie and buttons. She dumps the tie in the sink, and takes the buttons one at a time, both knowing Stitch would pitch a fit if she tore them, and that's enough to get Crowbar's brain going again. He catches her hands before they can start lower. "Hey! Okay, even if that's true, I'm a professional. We're working for Lord English and he's not paying us to fuck around."

"He's not paying me to not fuck around either." Snowman curls her fingers around his hands, and leans in close, lips nearly brushing up against his, "We're off the clock, Crowbar. What we do when we're not on the job is our business, so long as it doesn't mess with the job. I can keep things separate. And I know you can too." And then she kisses him again, and she tastes like tobacco and hooch and her mouth is warm in a way that goes straight through him.  
It's so fucking hard to lean back, but he does because there's one reason left, and maybe it'll be the bucket of ice water she needs to cool down. "Third reasons: Spades Slick."

Snowman pauses. The sly smile is gone in an instant, and Crowbar knows he's got a winner, even if his body is more disappointed in him than it can fully express. "What about Slick?"

"I've seen what he does to anybody interested in you. I don't even want to think about what the jealous asshole's going to do to me for touching his ex."

And she laughs at him. Laughs, and shakes her head, and then shoves him up onto the sink. "Slick-" She says as she gets her hands free and goes to work on Crowbar's pants, already sagging without his suspenders to hold them up, "Isn't my ex-anything. Except ex-archagent. He was a glorified secretary, and he got me exiled because I made him wear his uniform."

"What?" Crowbar says, because this is barely making any sense, "A secretary?"

"Archagent. You don't have those here. Lift your ass." She pushes his hips up, and he lifts, and she gets his pants and underwear off of him without so much as a complaint from Crowbar. He's still trying to get his head straight about Slick-the-secretary and the rest of him is more or less hoping he doesn't catch on until it's too late for the now-punctured mantra. Snowman gets her hand around Crowbar's prick, giving it a few strokes, and he just groans. She keeps on talking. "He was always a cranky bastard, and nothing makes him happier than trying to make me as miserable as he is. "

"Fuck." He says, mostly to himself, and shudders when she slips her hand off. Crowbar watches her slide her underwear down and hitch her skirt up and oh lord, those sleek black thighs and the place they meet. This should be his last chance to make her back down, but he's so hard and all he really wants is her. He gives her a hand up and helps her keep her balance while she settles her knees on either side of him, then guides the rest of herself right down on his prick, and oh fuck, she's warm and wet. "God Snowy."

"Hold me up." Snowman orders, and he gets his hands on her ass, giving her the support she needs. He doesn't need to do much of anything, except hold on as she rocks down on him. She nips at his lower lip with those teeth of hers, and his hands stay planted on her ass, marvelling at how fucking wonderful she feels. Her hands knock his hat off and run over the curve of his head and then down his back, his shirt barely softening the feeling of her sharp fingers digging into his skin. The slow grind goes on for damn near forever, and when he can't stand it a moment longer, he picks her up and slides the both of them off the counter. Her legs just wrap themselves around him as he pushes her up against the wall. Snowman laughs and nips harder and digs her heels in, and then he thrusts and she just smiles.

Snowman's deathly quiet, but Crowbar finds it hard to keep his own mouth shut and there's a constantly quiet stream of "uh, uh, fuck, snowman", over and over. If she finds it annoying, she doesn't say, she just moves her lips all over his face, egging him on with every smooth undulation her body makes. He's breaking all the rules and there's probably going to be hell to pay in the morning, but right now he's between those thighs and that's all he cares about.

Crowbar doesn't know she's coming until it's already happened, and all she does is dig those fingers in deep and let out a soft little sigh. Her face says it all, slack and ecstatic, and it takes all of his willpower not to lose it right there and then like a chump. Crowbar shuts his eyes and thinks about heist plans, building diagrams, vault combinations, holding on as long as he can. And then, just as he almost it under control, she slides that mouth of hers over his neck and bites down, and he just comes with a shudder.  
Crowbar's legs are weak as hell when he pulls out and sets her back on the sink. He leans against the door, and she presses her back to the mirror, legs dangling off the counter. They're both breathing heavy and just trying to gather themselves when there's a knock at the door. "Hurry up! I've got to piss like a racehorse!" It's Trace.

"Use the other john." Crowbar shouts back, doing his best to keep his voice steady. He pulls his pants back up, sliding the suspenders back over his shoulders. Snowman reaches behind her and finds her cigarette, holding it out to Crowbar to light.

"Thanks." She inhales, and then slides off the sink, getting her underwear back on and her skirt down again. The smoke streams out of her mouth, and it's so hard not to lean in and kiss her. But he's not sure if he should. He's not even sure if this is a thing, or an accident, or something he hasn't thought of yet. She tucks her cigarette in the corner of her mouth, and slides her hands around his neck. It takes him a moment to realize she's putting his bow tie back on him. Her hands are still so warm as she knots it up and gets it squared. "There, respectable again. Except for this." And then she slides her finger over the bite on his neck.

"Snowman." He's still too zozzled for this. Crowbar wants to be sober and sensible and in control, instead of punch-drunk as a seventh round boxer.

"I'll see you downstairs." She tells him, and takes the cigarette out of her mouth so she can kiss him again. He grabs hold and kisses back, until she finally fades away and he's left with an armful of air. Crowbar rests his back against the sink and breathes in deeply. Lord almighty.

Trace knocks again, louder this time. "What the hell are you doing in there?"

Nobody listens to Crowbar when they're drunk. He almost tells Trace to go fuck himself. But Trace is a bit of a bastard when he's drunk, and he doesn't want to deal with Trace fucking with him for the rest of the night. So instead, he splashes a little more water on his face, grabs his hat off the floor, and then opens the door. Trace glares at Crowbar and pushes past him to get inside, then stops dead as he sees the trails left.

Crowbar heads back downstairs, leaving Trace to try figure out what the hell happened.

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first porny Homestuck fic I ever wrote and it shows. Characterization is a bit shaky here since I was still settling on everybody's personalities/backstories.


End file.
